


In Which Everyone is Female

by Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Genderbend, Lesbians, Multi, and opinions, based off of my headcanons, body love, relationships and characters will grow as more chapters are written, this is becoming a drabble series just with genderbending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar/pseuds/Hiding_in_the_cookie_jar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every male character will have a set of drabbles where they are female. These are based on my headcanons of what the characters would look like and act like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kirk

**Author's Note:**

> Why I am writing this: I have seen several genderbends and am slightly unsatisfied with how the characters are portrayed. In fanart I notice that there is little diversity in body shape - I personally think Jim would be curvaceous and Spock would be just as lean and figure-less. I do not want to put anyone down for their art as it is still very good and interesting (I do not have half the talent as the artists) but this is solely for me to spread my opinion and headcanons to other people.

**Busty Girl Problems (feat. fem!Spock)**

Jane sighed in frustration as she picked at the tatters of her shirt, barely clinging to her shoulders. Spock raised an eyebrow as she observed her captain, dirty and panting, making her way across the sandy field.

"This was a nice fitting shirt," Jane said when she met Spock. "Do you know my trouble with getting uniform shirts that fit me? They always stretch awkwardly over my boobs. I don't have trouble with the dresses. Just the shirts."

Spock remained staring, unimpressed. Jane sighed.

"Sometimes I wish I wore an A cup like you. It must be convenient," she said.

"Indeed. Smaller breast size would be more beneficial to a captain that participates in brawls and is an active member of away teams. However, just last week you were stating your fondness of your body."

Jane smirked. "Why Commander, I believe you were stating the same minutes later."

Spock straightened, placing her arms behind her back and staring at Jane with both eyebrows raised now. "Really, sir."

Jane laughed, shaking her head. "Ready to beam up?"

Spock flipped open her communicator. "Two to beam up, Mr. Scott."  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
 **Hair**

Jane held a dozen pins in her mouth, trying to grab a stubborn lock of hair. She grunted as she caught hold of the hair, frizzy and curly, and pulled a pin from her lips. Carefully, she slid it into her hair. With a smirk, she felt her neck, checking for more fallen hair only to find that the same lock had not all been pinned down and had returned to its initial location. Jane smacked the top of her vanity dresser.

Spock stepped through the bathroom door, half of his uniform on and his hair wet. His insufferable bangs were clumped together but when dried would be as straight and flawless as ever. They would spread out evenly against his forehead and not a single hair would be out of place. Just like everyday. All without Spock even trying.

"Jane, why are you glaring at me?" he asked, pulling a shirt out of the closet.

Jane let the pins fall out of her mouth. Some landed on the dresser while some bounced off and fell into her lap. She didn't care, though, and turned to Spock.

"Help me with my hair," she ordered.

"I lack experience and skill as a hairdresser," he said but was already making his way to Jane.

"Just hold this." Jane grabbed a hairpin and held it up. "Make sure none falls down."

"You were not exaggerating when you said you are not a 'morning person'. All though I am still unsure of the meaning of the phrase."

"Don't make me order you, Mr. Spock."

Spock raised an eyebrow and took the pin. He gently slid it into her hair, capturing the light brown lock in its rightful place.

"Thank you," Jane said, cleaning up the pins on her lap and standing up, walking to the bed.

Spock remained at the dresser. He watched with well-hidden endearment as Jim pulled her right boot on, stretching her leg out to get it on all the way and allowing Spock a glimpse up her skirt. She pulled her leg up on the bed and hugged it, resting her head on her knee and closing her eyes.

Her skirt rode up her thighs, revealing the imperfections of stretch marks and cellulite. The effects of having extra weight and just being a human; the little flaws that Spock showed love with his lips and fingers, tracing them during silent nights where Jane and Spock were the only ones in the universe. The nights where the stars shone only for the two of them, where the planets revolved around them, and where Jane had felt more than loved. Spock had a weakness of showing his affection to every inch of Jane's body and cherishing every mark on her body that she had tried hiding or ignoring or getting rid of before she had Spock to whisper how perfect she was in the dead of night.

"Get a good enough look?" Jane whispered. Her eyelashes, already painted with makeup, remained against her skin.

 _Never ___, Spock thought to himself.


	2. Sulu and Chekov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double the genderbending

**Of Hairpins and Fathers**

“Ouch!” Chekov jerked away from Sulu.

Sulu sighed and dropped her hands to her lap. “I’m sorry but your hair is tangled. I can’t do anything with knots in it.”

Chekov rubbed the back of her head where Sulu’s fingers had dragged through and pulled her hair. “Use a brush zen!”

Sulu leaned over and grabbed the brush Chekov had laid out in front of her along with the pile of hair ties, clips, and a flat iron. That morning Sulu had insisted on doing Chekov’s hair as she claimed the Russian never fully straightened the back of her hair when she did it on her own.

Sulu worked the brush through her hair, biting her tongue when Chekov complained and yelped in pain. She pulled up layers of Chekov’s long hair and began straightening it. After hours of Chekov’s complaining and Sulu repeating “I didn’t burn you, it didn’t even touch you!”, Chekov’s hair was done and their shift would begin in less than an hour. 

As Chekov admired her hair in the mirror, Sulu grabbed all the hair supplies and dumped them on Chekov’s nightstand. She grinned when she saw Chekov grab the pin she wore everyday and place it on the usual place on the right side of her head, holding back a large portion of her hair.

“Where did you get that pin from? I’ve always wanted to ask you.” 

Chekov turned around, the small silver gems in her hair catching the light. It was really quite beautiful and looked fairly old. Not something that could be picked up at any boutique on a space station on an ensign’s salary. 

“It was my grandmother’s,” Chekov said, bringing a hand up to it. “She gave it to me when I was a little kid and I have always worn it since.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“Apparently it has been in my family longer. I guess zat it has been passed down to a girl in every generation in my family.”

“Your mother didn’t have get it?” 

Sulu was too distracted by cleaning up to realize that it was not a sensitive way of going about the question. She had never heard Chekov talk about her mother and Sulu, being the person to always reach the worst case scenario first, had kind of assumed that she was dead and had been dead since Chekov was a little girl. As soon as the words left her mouth, Sulu felt her cheeks burn. She opened her mouth as if she could push the words back in her mouth by sheer will and embarrassment. 

“I have two fathers,” Chekov said, walking over to take the flat iron out of Sulu’s hands. “No mother.”

“Oh.”

It should have been one of the first things to occur to Sulu. It was similar to the time when the Captain was delayed on the planet they had been orbiting and she had conjured up a thousand scenarios in which Jim was either dead, dying, captured, or had caught a horrible disease which would result in his death. In reality, he had only been spending more time with the natives to learn their customs and was happier than he had been all week by the time he beamed back up.

“Breakfast?” Sulu asked.

Chekov nodded with a wide grin. She grabbed Sulu’s hand, lacing their fingers together and practically skipping out of the room.


End file.
